Just A King Inside His Castle
by LivingTheBeatOfSummer
Summary: Edmund hated Lottie, who had invaded his life and ruined everything. Lottie loathed Edmund, who kept tormenting her with his cruel words and vicious ways. So why, then - despite everything they say and do to each other - do their hearts beat faster when together? They do say that the strongest passion is born from hate...
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey everybody! So this is my new story, based off I'm the King of the castle by Susan Hill. I'm not a fan of the original, but we have to study it for our English GCSE. This was my way of making it more interesting. The title is from the song 'Oh, Calamity!' by All Time Low. Anyway, enjoy!**_

**Chapter 1**

'I'm engaged.'

Two words. Two words, and her life changed.

'What?' Lottie yelled at her mother. 'I didn't even know you were seeing anybody!'

'I met him in the city,' Mrs Kingshaw said. 'He's a banker. His name is Joseph Hooper.'

Lottie sat there, stunned.

'We will be moving to his house in the country on Monday.'

'But I haven't even met this man!'

'Quiet Charlotte! I would appreciate it if could show a little respect.'

Lottie sighed, folding her arms.

'He has a son, one year older than you. Be thankful for this Charlotte, this is just what we need.'

And with that, Lottie's life changed.

**_I know this one's short, but the next will be longer, I promise. x_**

**_Sabrina x_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

'Helena Kingshaw is arriving today' said Joseph Hooper. 'You can meet her daughter. I hope you have not forgotten'.

No, Edmund had not forgotten. How could he? His father was to marry a woman that Edmund had never met, and with her was bringing her daughter. An unwanted company his father would surely expect him to deal with. He tried to think over what he knew of her. Sixteen, went to school in London, described by his father as 'a bit of a handful for her mother'. She'd sleep in the room next to his, and no doubt would constantly disturb him. How he wished, not for the first time, that his father did not work in London.

Edmund went slowly up the four flights of stairs to his own bedroom. It was raining hard again, and great, bruise-coloured clouds hung low over the house. He thought, it must be a sign of what the Kingshaws would bring.

He went to his window. 'This is my house' he thought, 'One day this will all be mine. I don't want anybody else to come here.'

He saw the car come down the driveway. He tried to wish the Kingshaws away. He turned away before they could get out of the car, thinking that, maybe, if he didn't see the Kingshaw girl, she would go away.

'Edmund,' his father had been calling, up and down the house. 'Edmund, I need you to take Charlotte to her room. You're being very ill-mannered. Come out here, please. Edmund!'

Hands in pockets, Edmund walked downstairs. The Kingshaw girl stood in the hallway, hands clasped around the handle of her suitcase. Her hair was dark brunette, she wore a white lace top and denim shorts, with a turquoise bead necklace wrapped around her neck. Her eyes were large, beautiful, but they made her look vulnerable. This pleased Edmund.

'Go along, Charlotte dear, follow Edmund.' Her mother wore a jade green suit and Edmund thought she looked ridiculous.

He turned and, without a word, started back up the stairs. Charlotte followed him, dragging her large suitcase behind her. When they reached the corridor with their rooms, he opened the door of her room. He watched from the doorway as she threw her suitcase onto the bed. She turned, looking back at him, questioningly.

'I didn't want you to come here,' he said, folding his arms in front of his chest.

'Excuse me?' she looked surprised. 'Not even a hello? You're not the only one who didn't want this.'

The Hooper boy stared at her, cold and hard. She hated that, not that she needed any other reason to, other than the fact that she had to live in his place now.

'When my father dies, this will all be mine. Don't think that just because he's marrying your mother your family will see a single penny once he's gone. I will be master, and you will be gone.' The Hooper boy smirked.

'So?' Lottie replied, shrugging her shoulders. 'See if I care. It's just a crappy old house anyway.'

'At least we own our house. You've been tenants your whole life, from what I hear. Why? Were you too poor to by a proper house?'

'Yes. Your point being?' She tried to play it off, like it didn't matter to her. She didn't want to give him control of her.

'How did you stay there then?' He drew close to her now. 'I bet there wasn't just money involved.' He bit his lip, looked her up and down suggestively.

'Oh fuck off'

He stepped back, hands up. Instead of leaving though, he leaned casually against the bedpost.

'Fine, don't leave then.' She began unpacking. The Hooper boy still remained there, watching as she took out her possessions. She tried to ignore him, wishing him away in her mind. She took out the photo of her father, in his uniform, and placed it on the bedside table.

The Hooper boy sauntered over and picked up the picture. Lottie glanced up at him. It made her uncomfortable, him looking through everything.

'Did he run off then?' He asked somewhat uncaringly.

Lottie sighed. 'No. He died.'

The Hooper boy raised his eyebrows. He had always found it to be an impressive way of looking.

Intrigued, he said, 'Do you remember your father then?'

'A little bit. He was a pilot, once. He fought in the Battle of Britain.' She paused, looking down at her hands. 'He was a brave man.'

'I don't believe you. He looks like a coward to me. I bet he ran away, and just said that to cover his tracks.'

She snapped. 'Then you're a bastard, because you never knew him. I bet you don't even know what bravery is.'

She could see this was making him angry. She pushed him further.

'You probably only said those things to cover up for your own cowardice.'

He threw the photograph down onto the bed. 'You know what, I don't care about what you think. You won't be long here anyway. You're only _guests _here.'

She laughed. 'I think you'll find this is my room now.'

Edmund turned, hearing the new note in her voice, considering what it meant. Before he could think about it, he slapped her round the face.

Shocked, Lottie punched Edmund in the face. He wiped his nose, looking down shocked at the blood on his hands.

Edmund could feel his anger rising, boiling in his veins. He pushed her back against the wall roughly, pinning her there with his arm against the top of her chest. He could feel her breathing deeply against his body.

'Never,' he sneered, 'touch me again. You're a silly girl who doesn't know what she's doing'

She looked hard into his eyes.

'At least I know what bravery is.'

He leaned close, so his lips were by her ear. 'I'm going to make your life here fucking miserable for that' he whispered.

He let her go, and walked slowly out of the room. Lottie breathed out slowly, and went to close the door. She leaned her head back against the wood.

'This is my room now', she thought.

* * *

Edmund looked into his mirror. His nose had stopped bleeding now. Fortunately it seemed that it wasn't broken, if it was, he wouldn't have known how to explain it to his father. Not that he cared what his father thought, but still, it would be best if he kept out of it.

He thought about the new girl. She was pretty, sure. Her eyes had a kind of wild but innocent look to them. And she had fire. But she was the enemy, and he wanted her away from here.

At heart he knew that wasn't true. In reality he wanted to control her, to own her, but he couldn't admit that to himself. Not yet, anyway.

_**So, basically, the story will follow the original book, chapter by chapter. Quick note: Edmund is 18, and Lottie is 16/17.**_

_**Love, Sabrina x**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A path led through the rough field, at the back of the house, and beyond this were only more fields, sloping this way and that, overlapping like so many pillows. It was perhaps two miles to Hang Wood, which ran along the ridge. Below this, a bit of open scrubland dropped sharply down into the forest proper.

That was to the west. To the east of Warings there was only the village of Derne, and then flat farmland, until the first of the main roads.

Lottie had studied all of it, but only on the map, before they came here. Having only lived in the city, she was eager to experience the country. She had not yet seen any of it, only gone a little way down the lane at the bottom of the drive, and leaned on a gate.

Today, she began to walk. They had been here over a week, she was tired of hanging about the house, being spied on by Edmund. She went through the yew trees and hesitated by the copse. Keck and stinging nettles grew up as high as her chest, obscuring the path.

She backed away, and skirted the copse, coming out into one corner of the field. Then, she walked.

The fields sloped upwards at first. It was very hot. Lottie did not look back. She bent her head and pressed on. She was not much interested in where she was going, as long as she got away from that house, away from Edmund. She had to prove her independence, least of all to herself.

In the next field, a tractor had made giant ruts in the earth, and those ruts had dried hard, and she kept stumbling. By the time she had reached the end of the field, her leg had mud streaked all up the side. She climbed the gate, tripping slightly as she placed her feet on the other side. The third field was of thick corn, almost ripe.

When she first saw the crow, she took no notice. There had been several crows along her way. This one glided down into the corn on its enormous, black ragged wing. She began to be aware of it when it rose up suddenly, circled overhead, and then dived, to land not very far away from her. Lottie could see the feathers each individually. Then it rose and circled, and came down again, this time not quite landing, but flapping about his head, beating his wings and making a sounding like flat leather pieces being slapped together. It was the largest crow she had ever seen. As it came at her, she looked up and noticed its beak, opening in a screech. The inside of its mouth was scarlet, like the colour of blood.

Lottie flapped her arms. For a moment, the bird retreated a little way off, and higher in the sky. She began to walk quickly back, through the path in the corn, looking ahead of her. How stupid to be scared of a rotten bird. What could a bird do? But she could feel her own extreme isolation, high up in the cornfield.

For a moment, she could only hear the soft thudding of her own footsteps, and the silky sound of corn, brushing against her. Then, there was a great rush of air, as the great crow came beating down, and wheeled about her head. The beak opened and the hoarse caaw came out again and again, from inside the scarlet mouth.

Lottie began to run, not caring now. Her progress was very slow, through the cornfield, the thick stalks bunched together and got in her way, and she had to shove them back with his arms. She reached the gate and climbed it, then fell onto the grass on the other side. She looked up. The crow kept on coming. She ran.

But it wasn't easy to run down this field either, because of the tractor ruts. She kept slipping, but she never quite fell. The crow dived again, and, as it rose, Lottie felt the tip of its black wing, beating against her face. She gasped suddenly, biting her lip. Then, her left foot caught in one of the ruts and she keeled over, going straight forwards.

She tried to get back up, but her ankle gave way. She lay with her head in the coarse grass, panting heavily, with the sound of her own blood pumping through her ears. She felt the sun on the back of her neck. She raised her head, and wiped two fingers across her cheek. A streak of blood came off where a thistle had scratched her.

She looked around. She saw the crow, closing in. It gave a single screech, and beat its wings terribly, then swooped down and landed in the middle of her back.

She lay and closed her eyes and felt the claws of the bird, digging into her skin, through the thin shirt, and she began to scream in a gasping sort of way.

She heard the sound of feet, then a shout, and then the bird was gone. She looked up, and there was Edmund.

There was no reassuring smile, no 'Are you ok?', he just stared down at her, unemotional. His dark green eyes stared down at her from beneath his black hair. She saw nothing in them. Then he turned and walked away.

'Hey!' she shouted after him. He took no notice. 'Hey!'

'What?!' he whipped round, staring angrily at her. She hated that.

'Thank you', she spoke quietly, shuffling her feet awkwardly. 'For saving me.'

'Yes, well, if I hadn't, what would you have done? Cried until it went away? You're pathetic.'

'Really? Then if that's all that would have happened, then why did you bother?'

'I have my reasons.'

'Your reasons? That, to me, sounds like a cover-up. I bet you just like being powerful. Is that it? Is that why you're doing this? To show your power? No, you're the pathetic one Edmund.'

'Who cares? I'm not the one who had the panic attack at the sight of a _bird._'

'God, you are so infuriating!'

'Come on, cry-baby. We have to get back for lunch.'

He started back in the direction of the house. Lottie followed, trailing behind.

* * *

The next day, as Lottie walked down to dinner, she came across a locked door. She tried shaking the handle, to see if it would spontaneously unlock.

'What are you prying at?'

She spun round. Edmund came towards her.

'You can't get in there. It's locked.'

'No shit, Sherlock.'

'Ha ha', he said sarcastically. 'It's the Red Room, and it's private. My father keeps the key.'

'What? What have you got in there that's so special?'

'Valuable things. haven't I told you that before?. There are things in there that you'll have never even seen.'

Lottie was curious, she wanted to know what the room might contain. But she had a bad feeling about it, and didn't really want to go inside. She moved away from the door.

'Want me to show you?'

Lottie shrugged. She thought, I mustn't let Edmund know what I truly think, never, not about anything. He must not find out that the room gave her the heebie-jeebies.

'You can come with me after supper,' Edmund said.

* * *

When Lottie left the dinner table, Edmund followed. He grabbed her arm.

'I've got the key now, come on.' Edmund said, and she shivered as she heard his voice close from behind her.

It was very dark inside the Red room. Beyond the windows, the sky was steely grey, the rain teemed down.

Lottie went only a little way into the room, and then stopped. She had known this would happen, that she would not like it.

'Here, look at this Lottie.' Edmund beckoned her to one of the glass cabinets. She moved forward. She drew her breath in sharply.

'Moths.'

'Yes, every sort of moth in the world.'

'Oh really?'

'Yes, really.'

'Who... where did they come from?'

'My grandfather. Haven't you ever heard of him? You're thick, aren't you? My grandfather was the most famous collector in the world. He wrote all sorts of books on moths.'

He pointed to the centre one. 'This one is called the Lutestring Moth.'

It was thin and wiry. It was dead, pinned to the card. It gave her the creeps. Then she looked to Edmund. He was gazing down into the glass gaze. His mouth was parted, and his eyes were soft. For the first time, he looked relaxed.

'Here, look at this one.' He pointed to one a little further into the room. She started walking towards it. Then he whipped around and pushed past Lottie without warning, he was out of the door, the key turning sharply in the lock. After a moment, his footsteps went away down the hall. A door closed somewhere.

She let out a cry of frustration. Then she realised, the window . She ran over to it, and she opened it. She used her arms to pull herself up, and over. She fell down onto the grass on the other side.

'Ha-ha,' she thought, as she lay there. 'You haven't beaten me yet, Edmund Hooper.'

She got up, and returned to her room.

* * *

That night, as she slept, she dreamed. She was a moth from the Red Room. Edmund leered over her, menacingly. She squirmed under his gaze.

'You're mine now,' he breathed. Then he lifted her finger up, holding a pin.

She started screaming, kicking and thrashing, but his giant finger held her down on the card. He let his finger brush over her chest, her waist, her legs. She kicked him away. The pin drew nearer. She felt the tip of the pin over her chest. She stared up at Edmund, eyes pleading. He smiled.

He pushed the pin through her heart. She screamed.

She woke up, sweating.

**_Criticism_**_** and reviews are always welcome.**_

_**Love, Sabrina x**_


	4. Chapter 4

A week later, Lottie travelled up to London with her mother, in order to hunt for a bridesmaid dress.

Their rooms were on the west side of the mansion, their windows facing the sunset as it cast its long shadows over the land. Lottie's room was just next door to Edmund's. Edmund entered her room. The layout was the same as his, a four poster bed on the left side, with two bedside tables. A tall oak cupboard on the right, menacing in its imposing grandness. Then, facing him, the large gothic window that looked out onto Waring's grounds. Now though, the room had been decorated with Lottie's clutter, the evidence to Edmund that she was real, and not a torment of his imagination.

He looked at the photograph of Lottie's father on her bedside table. Who was she to suggest he was a coward? She knew nothing.

He searched her room. He rifled through her draws, he went through her wardrobe. In the bookcase, behind the door, between cracks in the beams. He was looking for anything, any secret that he could use against her. He mused how creepy this would seem to an outsider, but then when had he ever cared about others? When he looked under the bed, he pulled out a large, black rucksack.

Opening it, he found dried food, a blanket, a torch, rope, a knife, and other items, he realised, needed to run away.

He set them down on the covers. He stared at them for a while, thinking about what it meant.

'Finally,' Edmund thought. 'I'll be rid of her.'

Except that it wasn't that simple. Edmund thought it, but he didn't feel it.

* * *

On the train from London, Mrs Kingshaw said, 'I hope you are friendly with young Edmund, now. I have not seen you about the place together very much.'

Lottie looked up from _The Bloody Chamber and other stories._

'I can't help it if he's an arrogant prick, can I?'

'Charlotte! I have told you I don't like you using that sort of street-rat language.'

Lottie shrugged.

_"When I saw him look at me with lust, I dropped my eyes but, in glancing away from him, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away."_

'Charlotte, did you hear me?'

The train crossed over some points.

'You must learn to be civil. You are adult now Charlotte, and it's time you started acting like one. You must get along with Edmund, there is no choice in the matter.'

Lottie looked up briefly, raising her eyebrows.

'We'll see.'

'Charlotte!'

* * *

Edmund looked down at the bag on his bed. It was packed with found dried food, a blanket, a torch, rope, a knife, and other items, needed to run away.

He still didn't understand why, but he did it anyway. Her bag was back hidden under bed, like it had been before. She mustn't know, not yet. No, he'd surprise her when they were too far gone for her to change her mind.

He placed his bag under his bed, and walked to the window. He watched the crows dart and swoop on the field on the hill, and he smiled.

_**Oooh, getting close to Hang Wood now - exciting! (well, in this version)**_

_**Sabrina x**_


	5. Chapter 5

Her mother said, 'Joseph and I are going up to London for a day.'

Lottie's heart thumped. She knew she would not have another chance like this.

'We shall be leaving here very early in the morning, and catching the first train,' said Mrs Helena Kingshaw, excited as a girl. There were a large number of things to be bought for the wedding, and she hoped to find a separate dress for the reception. The putting would be a wholly delightful treat. Joseph Hooper had spoken a little stiffly, looking embarrassed, as he suggested it, but she thought he had been pleased by her enthusiasm, he had given a small, shy, smile.

'You're both nearly grownups, so we expect you to be well behaved. It will be good opportunity for you to practice independence.'

And claim it, thought Lottie.

* * *

She set her alarm for half past four, and then, after some more thought, moved it forward to four o'clock. When she woke, it was still dark. She dressed, and took the bag from under her bed. Silently, she crept along the corridor, down the stairs, and out of the house.

Outside, it was very queer. The shadows of the night were starting to fade, as the first birds could be heard. She skirted the path, through the yew trees. When she got to the fence, leading into the first field, she looked back. The house seemed very large, seen from here, with all its windows shuttered and blank, like closed eyes. I hate it, she thought, I wish it would burn.

She turned away.

She climbed over the fence, and was immediately startled, because she could not see very far ahead, up the field, the mist was quite thick. But she knew this first mile or so, from before, from the day the crow had followed her. Down in the grass, the dandelions shone like doubloons.

She came to a deeper rut, and recognised it as the place where she had fallen, where Edmund had rescued her. She shuddered at the thought of being in his debt.

She had never experienced such silence before. It had a sort of thickness, partly because of the fog, and because there was no wind, no movement of air at all, only a coldness on her face. The only sound was of her feet, rustling and squeaking, over the wet grass.

There were several fences, on her way, and one particularly annoying barbed wire she had to crawl under, with much cursing involved. Finally, she reached the dark, green oak trees that towered and tangled above.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She had made it to the first landmark, without a sign of that Hooper boy.

The sun had risen now, and the wispy golden spins of light hung in the air with the promise of a new day, a new life. She could feel its warmth on her back, gently guiding her forward.

There was a ditch blocking her way, separating the main wood from the straggle of outsiders. She closed her eyes, ran, and jumped.

When she opened them again, she was in Hang Wood.

_**Another short one, sorry, but the next one will be much longer I promise **_

_**Sabrina x**_


End file.
